


Mosin-Nagant Model 28-30

by Thatmeddlingkid



Series: Romerica Mafia AU [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Italian Mafia, M/M, Mafia AU, Mentions of Suicide, Murder, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-27 02:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatmeddlingkid/pseuds/Thatmeddlingkid
Summary: Tino is a hitman whose latest job has him reflecting on his past and future.





	1. Business as Usual

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! For those of you who are coming here from Vin and Amy, long time no see! I want to give a gigantic thanks to everyone who read, commented on, and gave kudos to my story. I was seriously jazzed by y'all's interest in a continuation of the universe. Unfortunately, I've been super busy with school, so I have had very little time to plan and write, so I apologize for the gap.

The hallway was quiet with the exception of the soft click of Tino’s key as he unlocked the door to the hotel room. It was very nice, he noted to himself, though for how much it had cost, that was to be expected. It wasn’t exceptionally large, only containing a single bed, a dresser with a TV atop it, and a desk with a chair. It suited the needs of a businessman who was only staying for a single night, which, in a sense, Tino was.

  
After closing the door behind him and locking both the deadbolt and the chain, Tino walked softly forward, a small suitcase rolling behind him. Pausing only a moment to appraise the marigold and green floral covers of the bed, he lifted his suitcase up onto the mattress and immediately unzipped it. On top there was a set of pajamas, along with a suit not dissimilar from the one Tino was currently wearing and a small bag of overnight toiletries. Tino pulled out the contents and set them aside. Underneath, he removed a false bottom revealing a strikingly different set of contents. With a small hum, Tino glanced at his watch. It was 11:38, which meant he had quite a bit of time to prepare. He always left himself a safety net of sorts in this way. He had been in the business long enough to know that planning ahead was a key to a job well done.

  
Before emptying the contents of the suitcase, Tino got to work on the rest of the room. He went into the bathroom to grab several towels, which he then forced into the cracks around the front door. One nice thing about staying at the really nice hotels was that the construction workers did most of the soundproofing work for you. Tino had asked a corner suite, a request normal enough not to arouse suspicion, especially when he had assured the front desk worker that it was really just a request and to not be worried if they didn’t have one available. Another thing Tino had learned was that people were more willing to help you out if you were kind to them.

  
Another nice thing about staying in a fancy hotel was the view. Along the opposite side of the room was a set of floor length curtains, a golden color that matched the beds. Tino opened them slightly to peer out the window. He was 8 stories up, with a magnificent view of the cityscape. Down below, across the street, a patch of green stood out among the industrial colors that surrounded it. At the other end of the park, Tino could make out the beginnings of a crowd forming. Some figures were setting up a platform and audio equipment. The window itself was clean and clear, a little latch on the bottom keeping it securely shut. Tino lifted the lever and pulled the window open, just about a quarter of the way up. It was a hot day with almost no wind, he noted. Luckily, the desk in the room already stood between the bed and the window, so all that was needed was a quick push into position.

  
Nodding to himself, Tino returned to his suitcase and pulled out his first tool: a shooting rest. He laid it on top of the desk, right in front of the open space. He then went back into the suitcase and grabbed his next piece of equipment. She was a Mosin-Nagant 28-30, the very same rifle his father used in the Winter War. Tino ran his hands over her, checking all of her parts as he had done countless times before. The stock of the rifle was worn with years of use, but she was still in perfect working condition. Satisfied, Tino gently placed her on the desk.

  
He went back to the suitcase once more to dig out his last three items: a box of bullets, a pair of binoculars, and a manila folder. Pulling the desk chair up to the window, Tino perched himself on the edge and leaned forward, the edge of his binoculars almost touching the glass. He stared out onto the faraway crowd in the park, scanning for familiar faces. The set of files in the manila folder were already burned into his mind. Tino had gotten to work on that as soon as Lukas had dropped the information onto his lap. The leader, Vargas, was already there, standing behind the platform and chatting to a group of other people. Tino knew that Vargas would be easy to spot. The problem with crime bosses, or any bosses for that matter, is that they tended to have a bad habit of looking down on people, which meant that they also forgot to look up. Vargas was no different, from what Tino had heard. His syndicate was known for having a lot of clout with the Italians in the city, which, if this rally was anything to go by, was probably true.

  
The syndicate was also well known for employing big, beefy bodyguards, which did wonders for intimidating enemies but also had the side effect of making it very easy for Tino to pick them out of the crowd. Vargas’s bodyguard, a man named Beilshmidt, was standing right beside him, nearly a head taller. Tino was reminded of another bodyguard in the file, one he had guessed was related due to the matching last names and similar looks. The younger Beilshmidt was nowhere to be found, it seemed, nor was the man he most often accompanied, Vargas’s own grandson. No matter, Tino thought to himself, that wasn’t his problem.

The job only specified the elder Vargas to be killed. That was the easy part, he was going to be speaking in front of everyone on the raised platform, a clear shot from where Tino had set up. The hard part was the other members. Tino knew that hell would break loose as soon as Vargas went down. The crowd wouldn’t know where the shot came from, so they would run in all different directions. The members would pull out their weapons and look around for him while their bodyguards covered them. Soon the crowd would disperse, and the police would be called. Tino would need to be done by then.

  
He spent the next hour or so scanning the quickly growing crowd and mapping out where everyone was. Luckily most of the members stood near the platform, no doubt to show off their deference to Vargas. Some others flanked the edges. They were the ones he needed to be careful of because they were the ones most likely to make a break for it. Eventually, the number of new people arriving slowed and those that were already there found places to stay.

  
Tino checked his watch. 1:46. He went over the plan he had created one last time and grunted with approval. There were twenty-six syndicate members in the crowd. Tino opened his ammo box and counted out exactly twenty-six bullets. He set twenty-one of them aside on the desk and loaded his rifle with her first five rounds. He positioned her on the rest, the muzzle just inside the window. The desk, not being built for such use, was at an awkward height that forced Tino into a sort of half-squat. He knew holding that pose would result in soreness later, but as far as uncomfortable positions went, it certainly wasn’t the worst he’d ever been in.

  
Tino watched Vargas through his sights. The man made his way up to the platform, stopping every few feet to shake someone’s hand and smile. As he stepped up to the podium, the crowd grew still. Tino couldn’t hear him, but it was clear he had begun his speech, his hands waving in time with his words. Tino lined up his shot, the back of Vargas’s gray head in between his sights.

  
Pausing only a moment to steel himself, Tino took a deep breath.


	2. Isi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tino learns how to shoot.

“Breathe in. Hold it!...Now breathe out,” the man said in stern Finnish. 

Tino watched the air from his lungs float like smoke through the cold air as he obeyed his father’s orders. The two were situated in a clearing not far from a small cabin surrounded on all sides by tall, snow-covered trees. The boy was growing weary of the feeling of the frozen ground under his knee and his arms ached from holding up his unloaded rifle.

“Isi,” he said with a hint of a whine, “We’ve been doing this forever! I thought you said you were going to teach me to shoot?”

“Proper breathing technique is the key to accurate shooting,” his father answered, his finger wagging in the air, “When you breathe, your chest expands and constricts moving your arm...”

“And throwing off your aim.” Tino rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

His father raised an eyebrow. “You’re impatient. That’s another thing wrong.”

“I’m not impatient, I’m just cold!”

“Cold? Ha!” the man laughed bitterly. “Wait until you are chest deep in snow and tell me how cold you are! That is how I had to shoot in the war! For weeks we stayed out there, less than forty below!”

Tino blinked in surprise. His father almost never talked about his time in the war, at least outside proper shooting techniques. He said nothing in return, hoping the man would continue. 

To Tino’s disappointment, he didn’t, opting to instead reach out and tap just a little too hard on Tino’s shoulders to correct his posture. 

“Shooting is all about control,” he instructed, “Control of your body, control of your rifle.” He stopped his pacing to stoop down and inspect Tino closely, nodding curtly when he found nothing to criticise. Tino fought the urge to smile at this. 

“Of course,” his father continued, “There are things you cannot control. Wind, for instance, or the movement of your target. What must you do to combat this lack of control?”

“Adjust yourself,” Tino answered automatically, “You must make up for a lack of control by practicing flexibility.”

“Yes, very good. But you must also learn to do this within a limited time frame. You will not have all day to sit around and debate what you are going to do. You need to hone your abilities to the point where they become instinct that you can rely on. It is then and only then you have a chance against the enemy.”

Tino furrowed his brows. “What do you mean enemy, Isi? I thought we were just shooting targets?”

The man sighed, the lines around his eyes creasing with tiredness. “My son, you are too young to remember the horrors of war. If it ever comes again, I want you to be prepared for the worst.”

“You think we’re going to have another war? I thought we were friends with the Soviets now?”

The man grunted in response. “Officially, Finland is, but I don’t trust them. Understand, son, that you cannot spend months fighting someone and be expected to turn around and treat them as friends. We do this for no other reason but to survive, and for the government, survival is worth the loss of our dignity.” He spit on the ground. “I watched my brothers get shot through by Soviet bullets. Their blood stained my coat and gloves.” 

By this point Tino had forgotten about holding his proper position, instead staring wide-eyed at his father. “Were you scared?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“If I had not learned to control myself, I would have been.” He took to gazing past his son into the distant treeline. “But I did not have the time to be scared, so I simply shot back.”

“How many did you kill?” Tino knew the question had been a mistake as soon as he asked it. His father’s head jerked towards him revealing a face heavily lined with anger. 

“That is not a question you can ask someone,” he snapped, “I never want to hear you say those words again, do you understand?”

Tino swallowed thickly and nodded. His father looked away with disgust, as if he could no longer stand the sight of his son. 

“Lessons are over for today. Pick up your equipment and put it away.  _ Properly. _ I’ll be back to check it later.” 

Tino watched his father’s retreating form get blurrier and blurrier as tears welled up in his eyes.


	3. Not for Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confronted by Berwald, Tino must find justification for his actions.

"How many?”

Tino stood frozen in the den, the only sound his ragged breaths and the only source of light coming from a single table lamp that cast dramatic shadows across the room. Across from him, sitting hunched forward in a cozy armchair, was Berwald.

“What?” Tino asked, his voice coming out like a croak.

“How many,” Berwald repeated, “How many people have you killed?”

Tino shook his head slowly. “You can’t ask a man that question, Berwald, you just can’t.”

“I can and I am. Now tell me.” 

Tino knew the number of course. How could he not? It was burned into his mind, a horrible counter that just kept increasing. He had never said it out loud before, and when he did, the words tasted like bile. 

Berwald removed his glasses and put his head in his hands. Tino cautiously stepped forward and kneeled down in front of him. Berwald peeked through his fingers. “Who are you?” 

“It’s me, Ber, same as it’s always been.”

“No, Tino, it isn’t.”

Tino could feel tears building up in his eyes. “I...I thought you knew. When Matthias introduced us...I thought he told you.”

“I knew you were working for the Russian Mafia, I didn’t know you were killing for them. I thought you were money laundering or something.”

“So you were okay with that, but not with this?”

“There’s a big difference between white collar crime and murder, Tino, and you know it!”

He did know it, and though he had been finding it harder and harder to justify even to himself, Tino fell back on his go-to excuses. “I have never killed  _ anybody _ who didn’t deserve it. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers. All criminals, all adults. I’ve never killed a child, and I never could.”

That last part struck a chord in Berwald, just like Tino knew it would. Berwald loved kids. He would have been a great father, if he’d been straight and settled down with a woman. It had always broken Tino’s heart a little, that he’d never had the chance. 

Berwald stared at him, his beautiful blue eyes hard with anger. “Who are you to decide who deserves it?”

Tino swallowed. “Who are any of us, Ber? This country, hell, this  _ world _ , it’s all so broken. The people that pay us to go out and do what we do do it because, for some reason or another, they realized they can’t rely on the law.” Tino reached out and gently grabbed Berwald’s hands. “You know what that’s like Ber, we both do. This country wasn’t built for people like us.” 

Berwald pulled his hands away. Tino’s head throbbed as he held back the tears in his eyes. “Berwald, please, don’t do this. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t…”

“I think you need to leave,” he interrupted, grabbing his glasses from the side table and putting them back on. 

The tears in Tino’s eyes finally spilled out leaving two wet streaks that slid down his pale face. Without another word, he got up, stuffed a small suitcase full of clothing, and left the apartment. 

About two and a half weeks later, Eduard answered a call on his telephone and informed Tino, who had scarcely left his friend’s couch, that Berwald was asking for him. Tino counted the following conversation as one of the happiest moments of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ask me, killing people is wrong no matter what, but I'm not Tino.


	4. Kulta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tino teaches Amelia a few tricks.

“How do you do that?” Amelia gasped, her face lit up with awe.

“Do what?” Tino chuckled, though he knew what she was talking about. 

“Reload so fast,” she answered anyway, not catching his teasing, “You’re like some sort of robot, like, you don’t even need to look at what you’re doing.” 

“It’s all about spatial awareness,  _ kulta _ ,” he told her with a smile, “As long as you know where you and your rifle are, it’s a breeze.Good spatial awareness is the key to accurate shooting.” 

Amelia rolled her eyes and laid down the gun she had been cleaning. “I thought you said proper firearm maintenance was the key to accurate shooting!” 

Tino lowered his own rifle to point at her. “That is as well. There are a lot of keys. Accurate shooting is like a big door with tons of locks. And you need to unlock all of them to get through to...the, uh… I’m mixing metaphors here, but you understand what I’m saying.”

The teenage girl huffed and leaned down to rest her elbows on the workbench she stood behind. “Seems like a lot of work,” she sighed, cupping her face in her hands. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to teach you,” he pointed out, “If you don’t want to put in the effort, you don’t have to, but don’t expect to get very far with that kind of attitude.”

“I asked you to teach me about guns, Tino, not how to shoot,” she scoffed, “There’s a big difference. I don’t need to know how to hit a target from a bajillion feet away, I just want to know how they work. It’s cool, you know, how they can push the bullet out so fast.” Amelia’s eyes lit up and she stood up straight. “Oh hey, Tino, did you know that the sound of a gunshot is actually the sound of the bullet breaking the sound barrier?”

“I didn’t,” he lied, “Where did you learn that?”

“My physics class,” she said with a grin, “Isn’t that cool? It’s called a sonic boom. You have to go at least 767 miles per hour and a long time ago when they, like, first invented planes, they were trying to figure out how to to go that fast and then they finally built a plane with a rocket in it and some guy named Chuck something flew it fast enough to break the sound barrier and it made this huge boom, like a gunshot or like when they use whips in the movies. It was like a really big deal back then but now we’ve got rockets that go like way, way faster like, Tino, did you know that Apollo 11 can go up to twenty-five  _ thousand _ miles per hour?”

“I  _ didn’t, _ ” he answered, honestly this time, “You really seem to like that class, Amelia.”

“Oh, I do! It’s soooo cool! And I’m really good at it too. In fact, my teacher said I should join the school’s physics bowl team.” 

“You should, if you like the subject so much.” Truthfully, Tino thought the girl ought to get involved in activities more appropriate for someone her age. It wasn’t good for her to constantly be around a bunch of criminals, which, organized or not, was what Tino and the rest of them were. 

“I’m going to try to get Kiku to join with me. He’s super smart. I already asked Mattie, but he said no.” Amelia pulled a face. “He called me a nerd, which, like, isn’t even true.” 

Tino laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to figure out how things work.”

Amelia smiled. “That’s what I’m saying. Speaking of which…” She lifted the rifle in front of her. “Am I doing this right?”

Tino stepped over to inspect her work. “It looks good to me,” he answered, “Well done.”

Amelia beamed, then quickly frowned when she saw his concerned face. “What?”

“One thing,” he said seriously, “You got solvent on your face.” 

She yelped and looked down at her dirty hands. “Oh gross, where?”

“Right there,” he said, pointing to his own face.

“Here?”

“A little higher. Actually, you know what, I’ll just get it.” Tino made a big show of licking his thumb and reaching for her. 

“Eeeewww, no, get away from me!” She ducked out of his reach. “Dad, stop it.”

They both froze in place when they realized what she had said. 

“I-I mean, Tino,” she looked down awkwardly, her cheeks turning bright red “Uh...sorry...about that.”

Tino lowered his arm and smiled warmly. “It’s okay, Amelia.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket, still refusing to look up. “Uh, it’s probably getting late. I should go home. Sorry to...uh...stay for so long. I’m sure you have a million things to do.” 

“Amelia, wait,” he said as she turned towards the exit, “Is Arthur working late tonight again?”

“Uh, yeah. He is. But it’s alright, there are some leftovers in the fridge, so everything’s good this time.” She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets.

“Why don’t you come have dinner with us tonight? Bring Matthew, too.”

“Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh,  _ kulta _ , you wouldn’t be intruding at all! We love having you two around! And I think Berwald is trying out a new roast chicken recipe. There’s no way we could eat all of that by ourselves.” 

“Alright,” she said, just a little shakily, “If you’re sure.”

“Lovely! Now go on and run home to fetch your brother. I’ll finish up here and we can meet back at the apartment. Berwald should be home, so he can let you in if you get there first. Oh, he’ll be so happy to see you! He’s been asking when you two could visit again.”

Amelia nodded and hurried towards the exit. Right before she opened the heavy door, she turned around. “Hey, Tino!”

Tino looked up from the gun case he was opening. “Hmm?”

“Thank you!”

Tino smiled as she slipped out the door. 


	5. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When bad news is revealed, Tino decides to make a change.

_ Knock knock knock. _

…

_ KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! _

“It’s open!” Tino called out, already knowing who it was. There were only a handful of people who knew his home address and out of them, only one would feel the need to knock. He continued cleaning out his rifle as Eduard flung open the door and stomped in.

“Toris told me what happened,” he said, placing his hand authoritatively on his hips, “Tino, what the hell were you thinking, going off on Ivan like that?”

Tino narrowed his eyes. “Did Toris tell you what happened to the twins? Or did you help tie them up yourself? Turn on the hose when he told you to?”

“I wasn’t there when it happened!” Eduard protested. 

“But you wish you were!” Tino yelled, jumping up from his chair, “You said it yourself, just last week, ‘Those two are looking for trouble.’”

“They  _ were  _ looking for trouble, Tino, going behind Ivan’s back like that. That doesn’t mean  _ I _ wanted them to get hurt.”

“How did Ivan even find out about them? Who told him?”

Eduard scoffed. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re implying. He has eyes all around the city, you know that. They knew that, too, but that sure didn’t stop them.”

“They were nineteen! They were just kids, they didn’t know any better! They should have never gotten wrapped up in this business to begin with!” 

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Where was this attitude last week, when we were talking? Or hell, where was it years ago when you met them? You sure didn’t say they were too young then, when you were excited about training your new little protege!”

Tino stepped back as if he’d been slapped. Eduard’s glare softened and he sighed. “Tino, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just...I just meant they knew what they were doing. It’s a risk trying to get out of this business, and they calculated it all out together and decided it was worth it. You can’t fault yourself for that.” 

Tino slumped back down into the chair and fixed his eyes onto empty space in the air above his friend. Eduard slowly made his way to the other chair at the table and sat down. He looked over the rifle. “What are you planning on doing with that?” he asked. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Tino answered dully, “I’m going to shoot him right in his fucking  _ ryssä  _ head.” 

“Woah, what?” Eduard adjusted his glasses, as if they had something to do with his hearing. “Tino, are you kidding me? You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Why n...because! He’ll kill you!”

“If I kill him, he’ll kill me?”

“Yes! I mean...no! Ugh, you know what I mean. What with the way you blew up at him earlier, you’re probably already next on his shit list. As soon as you show your face, Ivan will rip you apart.”

“Who says I need to show him my face? All I need is a clear shot.”

Eduard was getting frustrated, grunting and pulling at his hair. “And what then, Tino? Then you have the whole damn syndicate after you! Natalia! You think she will just let that go? Of course she won’t! She’ll come after you and everyone you care about.”

The last thing Eduard said got Tino’s attention. He had been so caught up in what happened with the twins that he forgot the rest of his family. They didn’t even know yet. Oh god, how was he going to tell them? How was he going to tell Berwald? 

Eduard continued on, not noticing Tino’s horrified reaction. “Matthias and Lukas will be done for, everyone already knows they work with you. Lukas’s brother, the one you were going to hire, he’s gone, they’ll find out about him. Berwald, no chance they’ll let him go. Oh, not to mention  _ me,  _ because everyone knows I’m your best friend!”

“Oh my god, you’re right.”

“Huh?”

“You’re right, Eduard, I can’t pull them into this with me, what was I thinking?” 

“Uh, you  _ weren’t  _ thinking. You let your emotions get the better of you, which is really out of character, actually. I’ve never seen you like this, Tino.”

Tino was already figuring out a plan in his head. He and Berwald would have to move apartments. He could convince his husband easily enough, Berwald was already eyeing new locations for the furniture store he wanted to expand. One of the buildings had living space above it, and was on the other side of the city. Lukas and Matthias would almost certainly leave Ivan to work with him, and if they didn’t they wouldn’t rat out his new location. Tino trusted them with his life. Eduard, on the other hand, was cowardly, and as much as he proclaimed to be Tino’s best friend, Tino wasn’t sure if he could be trusted. 

“Tino,” the other man repeated, “Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked you what you were going to do.”

“I’m going to lay low, Eduard, at least until Ivan cools off. You know how he is, he’ll find something else to distract him soon enough.” 

“Then you’ll come back?” Eduard peered at him hopefully.

Tino shook his head in disgust. “Of course I’m not coming back! Not after  _ that _ ! I’m never working for those bastards again.”

Eduard frowned. “They sent me after you, you know. To bring you back. What am I supposed to tell them, Tino, that you’re officially putting in your two weeks?”

Tino laughed bitterly. “Sure, go ahead. But while you’re there, tell Ivan that if he or any one of his people even look at me or my family, I will have them lined up in my sights in an instant. And be sure to remind them that when I take aim, I never, ever, fucking miss.”


	6. Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tino struggles to wind down after work.

Tino squeezed his trigger and watched Vargas slump forward onto the podium. That was one down, twenty-five left to go. Tino exhaled as he pulled his bolt handle, releasing the first cartridge. 

The next shot was lined up before Beilshmidt had time to turn. 

_ Breathe in. _

He squeezed the trigger again and the man crumpled. That was two. 

_ Breathe out. _

_ Pull the bolt handle. _

_ Aim for the next target _

_ Breath in. _

_ Squeeze. _

And Three. 

_ Breathe out. _

_ Pull. _

_ Aim. _

_ Breathe in. _

Four.

_ Breathe out. _

_ Breathe in. _

Five.

Without moving anything but his hand, Tino grabbed five more rounds and reloaded the rifle. 

Six. 

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten. 

_ Reload. _The members of the syndicate had pulled out their weapons by now, but nobody could figure out where the shots were coming from.

Eleven.

Twelve. 

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

_ Reload. _ The crowd was in a full panic now, some people cowering together in little groups, others running as fast as they could in different directions. 

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty. 

_ Reload. _It was getting harder now, with many of the targets having moved from their original positions. 

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-five.

_ Reload. _ Tino clenched his teeth as he looked for the last mark. He was a bodyguard, though the young man he was guarding wasn’t on Tino’s list. The two had been standing in the crowd proper, not too far away from the platform. Tino scanned the area around the spot. They couldn’t have gotten far. Suddenly, a head of curly brown hair peeked up above the crowd. Tino lined up his sights and took the shot.

Twenty-six.

Tino sighed as he relaxed his shoulders and set his rifle down. After just a moment of rest, he got up and quickly gathered up his weapon, tools, and spent cartridges, all of which went back into the secret compartment of his suitcase. Within five minutes, the room looked as immaculate as it had been before he arrived. The police would be arriving to the scene soon, if they weren’t already, and it would be best if Tino was as far away as possible. 

Sure enough, when he walked off the elevator into the lobby, hotel employees and police officers alike were desperately trying to calm the chaotic crowd. 

“What’s going on?” Tino asked one of the cops.

“There was a shooting at the park across the street,” he answered sternly. 

“Oh my goodness,” Tino gasped, “That’s awful. Is it safe to go out there yet?”

“Rest assured, sir, we have officers on the scene. Exiting hotel patrons are being redirected towards a safe route away from the danger. If you would, please follow the directions given by hotel staff and other officers.”

Tino smiled. “Well I’m glad you have everything under control.”

* * *

The foot traffic around the hotel meant that Tino got home later than he wanted to, but still about an hour before Berwald closed up shop downstairs. He used the time to call Lukas and Matthias. Lukas, who was posted outside Vargas’s townhouse, didn’t answer, which Tino took to mean he was still there. Matthias, who had been assigned to Vargas’s restaurant, picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” he greeted. 

“Matthias, it’s me,” Tino replied, “How did everything go?” 

“Smoothly,” he answered, “I got three on their way out. They locked up behind them. I don’t think there was anyone else inside.” 

“Great. Tomorrow, I’m going to need you to check out of the hotel room for me.”

Matthias huffed. “That’s going to take forever! The whole area is going to be backed up! Can’t Lukas do it?”

“He checked in yesterday. If the investigators ever manage to figure out the vantage point, I want as little memory of the person in the room as possible. Checkout is at 11. You can come by in the morning to pick up the keys.” 

Tino hung up in the middle of another protest. He wasn’t in the mood to argue, and he knew Matthias would end up doing it anyway, especially after grabbing a plate of whatever Berwald was making for breakfast in the morning. The thought reminded Tino that he’d planned on making dinner tonight. He checked his watch and nodded. If he started right then, he could have it almost ready by the time Berwald came up. 

The cooking was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest that he always felt after a job, and by the time Berwald walked through the front door, Tino was in better spirits. 

“Hello, _ rakas _, how was your day today?” he asked as he poured the can of alfredo sauce into his pot of pasta. He didn’t plan on making Italian food tonight, really, he wasn’t in the mood for it, but he was short on time and ingredients. They would go grocery shopping tomorrow, when the furniture store was closed. 

Berwald leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Good,” he murmured.

Tino waited until he looked away before frowning. As much as he loved Berwald, the man’s stoicism was unbearable sometimes, particularly when Tino had nothing he wanted to talk about. He scooped the fettuccine onto a couple of plates and placed them on the small table in the kitchen. The two sat down and Berwald immediately started eating while Tino stared vaguely in his direction. 

“‘s good,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Tino replied with a smile. He ate a few bites of his own, not really tasting anything. “So, did anything interesting happen today?”

Berwald grunted and wiped his face with a napkin. “Emil made a big sale today. Whole living room set.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Tino gushed, “I know how worried he was about starting in sales. Remember just the other day we were talking about how he wasn’t sure if he was cut out for it. This will be a big confidence booster for him.” 

Berwald nodded and grunted in agreement. 

Silence fell over them once more as they finished eating. After they did the dishes, Berwald mentioned something about finishing up some payroll paperwork and left to go to his office downstairs. Tino knew he was lying. The store only had a handful of employees, and Berwald was never one to put things off for later. Tino didn’t think he was off getting drunk or meeting with secret lovers or anything, he just knew Berwald liked to deal with his feelings alone. Tino did as well. 

He spent the alone time unpacking his supplies and cleaning his rifle. Everything went into a safe hidden in their bedroom closet, out of sight and out of mind, at least until Tino would need it again. 

By the time Berwald came back upstairs, Tino was in his pajamas and under the covers of their bed, curled up and staring blankly at the wall.

“Alright?” Berwald asked as he changed into his own pajamas. 

“Yeah,” Tino said softly. 

Berwald took off his glasses and set them on the end table before sitting down on his side of the bed. He sighed deeply. “How was it?” 

“You don’t want to know.” 

“I do if you want to tell me.” 

Tino blinked. Berwald didn’t usually ask about his jobs. They had promised no more secrets between them, all those years ago, but there was still an unspoken agreement not to talk about it. 

“Twenty-six,” he said, almost a whisper, “A mafia boss and some of his associates. Protection racketing, loan sharking, smuggling. Good reputation with the people in his area, but notorious for getting violent when they don’t get their way.” 

There was a long pause before Tino felt Berwald slide under the covers next to him. The gap between their backs was only a few inches, but it felt like a mile. This was the moment Tino had been dreading since he took the job, as it was every time he took a job. 

“Good night,” he said weakly. 

“Night,” Berwald answered icily. 

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” The iciness melted a little, revealing just a hint of warmth.

Tino smiled in relief. That’s how it usually went, with them interacting at arms length for a couple of days until it slowly went back to normal. Still, there was always the chance that one day, it wouldn’t and Berwald would be gone from his life forever. 

Tino wasn’t good at losing people, though he’d had enough experience in it. When he found his father’s body, slumped in the corner of the cabin and covered in blood, his first instinct was to rip the rifle from his cold stiff fingers all while wailing like a madman. When Matthew and Amelia died, he threw himself into his work, taking so many jobs that, for the first time in his life, he lost track of how many people he killed. If he lost Berwald too, Tino didn’t know what he would do. The thought felt like being stabbed with an icicle. 

Tonight, though, everything was okay. The two men layed next to each other, not curled up together, but near enough. Tino fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of Berwald’s soft snores, feeling, at least for now, alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this short little piece of mine. If you like this universe, I'm open to more suggestions about which characters y'all want to know more about.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to do this story as a one-shot, but it became too long for it not to be awkward, so it's actually going to be a few chapters. The good news is, I've already finished all of them, so there's not going to be a huge wait between updates. 
> 
> Anyway, the name of this story comes from the model of rifle Tino uses, which also happens to be the rifle of choice of famed Finnish sniper Simo Häyhä.


End file.
